what i think of love sometimes.

All the whores in Frankfurt
made me sad, even
when it looked like they
were having a good time.
She said, "Don't get so drunk
     next time, baby."
and turned away
       her ass a monument
 to the spirit of
         human beauty
in an ugly world
        she turned and looked
              at her TV set, which
became at once
          unmuted
Dallas the show, not the
          city,
 was on and
 J.R. sounds so much
         more like a
strong, dark soul sumbitch
   dubbed in German.

  The spiral staircase
      was a mindfuck
MC Escher
      endless and convoluted
when i think of it
       it's
the story of my life
       a story that
ends up in vomit
      and a fistfight
         in the dark.

A man decides to change his career path

Driving back from her place
 he still smells her in his beard
feels her breath on the back
of his neck

it is a moment he holds on to
driving back from her place
to the wide sky
  purple black
over the flat land just as empty

There is a glass jar full of
coffee with cream and sugar
she poured out
   with weary kindness


her freckled breasts just under the red glow
of her nightgown.
She wanted to make sure
      in her own way
she would see him off

the highway had made him
who he was before
the road made him happy
the road was free
and kept mysteries great and small


driving back from her place,
the road feels like a jail
and all the stars in the sky
 and al the neon
in the dusty world
 could not budge his
      lonely heart
         one pebble's worth